Reign In Blood
by morbiddelinquent
Summary: Hermione is trapped in an abusive relationship with Ron. She has no one but herself, but even that is starting to slip away. Can she save herself or is she too lost to even begin? Rated for abuse, rape, mutilation, and language.
1. Smother Her

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot. The poem is part mine, part miscellaneous Third Eye Blind lyrics.  
  
A/N: Happy reading. Or morbid reading, rather. Drop me a note? Flames are welcome.  
  
Reign In Blood: Smother Her  
  
---------------- March 10 ---------------- There's a clown in her head that connects to a dream of a crowded room where the Glasses clink. And he'll buy her a beer and they'll drink in deep Because she can't keep from falling asleep. There's a demon in her brain and it starts to overwhelm. There it goes: her last change for peace. He lays her down but she gets no release. She feels her reality turn to a nightmare. She holds her breath until it's more than she can stand and she closes her eyes to Dream that she's awake. She writes everything down except what's on her mind because her greatest fear is the Sucking sound, and she knows she'll never get back out. How'd you like to be alone and drowning? She feels her self slide into another nightmare. Just smother her. It won't make a difference. Go on; kill her from the inside out. It won't matter. Do what you please. She'll do anything you wish. She's your pawn. Lay her down and name your request. Smother her. She would step back from the ledge if you thought about cutting the ties of your lies. Could you listen to one word she has to say? Everyone she knows seems to have a reason to beg to differ. She never thought it would come to this and she wants you to know-  
  
"Open this door, Hermione," a voice growled from outside her dormitory.  
  
16 year old Hermione Granger yelped as she threw aside her parchment and quill. She ran to the door, fumbled with the lock, and quickly flung the door open.  
  
"So sorry-"she started and was cut off by a heavy blow to her left cheek. She fell to the ground because of the impact and looked up blankly at the 6'5 red head above her.  
  
"Ron, I'm-"  
  
"Bitch, I told you not to lock that fucking door," he said calmly as he kicked her side, sending Hermione flying across the room, smacking against the side of her dresser. Hermione gasped for air and immediately coughed up blood into her hands. Ron was looking around in her drawers and taking out all of her clothes as she did this. She looked up at him with big, anxious brown eyes. He walked over to her bed and spotted her notebook of parchment filled with all her poems. Ron picked up the cache, frowning.  
  
"What the fuck is this?" he asked, not looking at her.  
  
"My notebook," Hermione replied quietly.  
  
Ron ripped out the first page and threw it into the fire.  
  
"Ron-"she yelped as she started to get up to save her life's work.  
  
Ron said, "Did I tell you to get up?" He had stopped and was looking right at her.  
  
Hermione immediately say back down and said, "I'm sorry, Ron." She was near tears. He then proceeded to tear out one page at a time and toss them into the burning blaze of red and silver flames.  
  
"Ron...please...please," Hermione begged, rocking herself.  
  
When he was done destroying her efforts, Hermione was sobbing with her head in her hands. Ron walked over to her. He crouched down in front of the girl so he was eye level with her and he said, "Hey. It's all right, baby. Come on. Look at me." Ron gently lifted her chin up. Ron smiled when Hermione looked at him. He slowly ran a finger over her cheek. He caressed along her jawbone and down her nose with his soft fingertips.  
  
Hermione couldn't help but smile.  
  
"Now there's my Hermione," Ron said almost triumphantly. He ran his hand through her hair. "You're so beautiful, baby," Ron told her.  
  
Hermione giggled and Ron said, "I love you, Hermione."  
  
"I love you too, Ron," Hermione said, looking into his addicting blue-green eyes. He smiled with a satisfying look and replied, "You better."  
  
--------------------------------------------- Two months earlier: January 10 ---------------------------------------------  
  
"The boy has an excuse, Minerva," Albus Dumbledore mumbled quietly to the irritated-looking teacher standing in front of him.  
  
"There shouldn't be an excuse for mouthing off relentlessly and never making an effort in class, Albus," Professor McGonagall exclaimed. Professor Dumbledore sighed and sat down at his office desk, rubbing his eyes.  
  
"Minerva, the child lost his mother on Christmas and his father left within a week, never-"  
  
"I know, Albus!" McGonagall said angrily, "I can't take it much longer, though. I haven't been able to manage him; no matter how many detentions I grant the boy! I also haven't been able to teach that particular class since delayed November. Couldn't you do anything?"  
  
Dumbledore looked out a window to his left and said, "This is something Ron needs to sort out on his own."  
  
"I understand that," McGonagall replied, "I just wish he could learn a thing or two from his best friends. Mr. Potter has always managed without his parents and Ms. Granger...well...she's always seemed to keep him grounded and on the right track..." 


	2. Cirque Du Freak

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the plot.  
  
A/N: Second chapter. This is part present, part flashback. The dates should clue you in. Drop me a note? Flames are welcome.  
  
Reign In Blood: Cirque Du Freak  
  
------------------------------------------------ About two months later: March 13 ------------------------------------------------  
  
Hermione looked out her dormitory window to the vast grounds below. She could see the icy, black, tedious lake that taunted her constantly. It was almost as haunting as Ron's piercing stare. She would love more than anything to be able to go on late night strolls like she used to.  
  
Just Hermione and herself. Herself and Hermione.  
  
'I can't do that anymore,' she thought to herself as she looked along the eye-catching blanket of darkness. Ron was ubiquitous and wouldn't allow her to go anywhere without him knowing or accompanying her. Hermione sighed and looked below again.  
  
The lake had a small, white-colored sliver basking in the center. Hermione looked above her.  
  
The moon. Of course. She knew it well. It represented her hope. Her salvation and deliverance.  
  
A few amethyst-shaded clouds with gray linings stirred themselves in front of the orb. Shadows descended over the grounds and Hermione quickly felt misplaced, yet contented.  
  
She had begun to relate to the darkness and silhouettes of the night quite often more than not. 'It's just like me,' she thought as the moon slipped in and out of view.  
  
"Traitor," Hermione whispered to the silver moon above her.  
  
The girl sighed and looked down at her hands. They were covered with cuts and bruises. Her whole body was in the same state: swollen and pained. For some reason, her maimed body mirrored her state of mind. Hermione thought vaguely about her sanity. Or lack of it, rather.  
  
Hermione realized that insanity is reached by those abused, it matters not whether it be physically or mentally. Always is insanity something to fear when the victims are aware of their lost sanity, and rejoice in it. Insanity alone is hard to defeat but when they come together...  
  
"That's another story," Hermione said aloud.  
  
She then wondered hazily if Rapunzel was insane because of being locked up all those years in a tower. Hermione had a lot in common with Rapunzel. They probably would have gotten on very well.  
  
Then, Hermione pitied Rapunzel. 'At least I can go to class and such,' Hermione thought to herself. But, still, she hated being in a nearly identical situation to a faery tale goddesses.  
  
"Hey. Rapunzel," Hermione said, "Forget the ladder. I know a much faster way down."  
  
Hermione almost laughed to herself at the ironical state of the entire situation. Hermione was in living hell and it was driving her up the wall. But there's nothing she can do about it. She's stuck forever.  
  
'He'll probably just kill me one day,' she thought.  
  
Hermione glanced out her window yet again. She missed the old Ron. She felt her eyes well up with tears. She missed him more than she missed her happiness. He stole her happiness and her heart, but she didn't want them back.  
  
He can keep them...  
  
------------------------------------------------------------ About four months earlier: late September ------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"How was your day?" a gentle tone whispered in Hermione's ear. The tone of his voice sent pleasant chills down her spine. The lips of the voice then proceeded to kiss her ear and collarbone.  
  
Hermione purred as she tilted her head back, giving Ron full access to her neck. She could feel him smiling on her skin as his hands explored her hair.  
  
"Good," Hermione breathed as she felt her mind and heart racing. She moved her arms to around his neck, "And – and - yours?" she asked.  
  
"Can't complain," Ron said as he pulled away (to Hermione's disappointment) and sat across from the girl. He picked up a roll of parchment and said, "Hermione, could you maybe help me with this essay I have to write? It's – for -..."  
  
He looked up at Hermione and instantly felt a mass forming below his waist. He hadn't gotten a good look at her from standing behind her, but...  
  
Hermione looked adorable.  
  
She had a ruffled look about her and she was wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of his favorite boxers (which were rolled several times). Hermione was gorgeous and she was wearing Ron's clothes. Also, she was pouting and that didn't help Ron to control himself.  
  
"What is it?" Ron asked, laughing. He suddenly wished they were much closer together. Hermione bounced slightly in her chair and pouted some more, "You just left," she said. Hermione then cocked her head to the left and ran her tongue over her bottom lip.  
  
Ron couldn't take it anymore. Immediately, he was off the chair (parchment flying everywhere) and leaning over a table, kissing his girlfriend full on the mouth.  
  
He kissed Hermione hard and he tongue was begging for entrance. She promptly granted it and kissed back just as firm as she had been given. The kiss rapidly turned very passionate and both teenagers were obviously completely hormone controlled.  
  
Hermione broke the kiss briefly and moaned, "Ron – I – want –"  
  
He kissed her again and helped her up off the chair, "Are you sure? It's a school night," Ron sneered playfully.  
  
Hermione laughed as she grabbed Ron's hand roughly. She practically dragged him across the common room and up the stairs to her dormitory.  
  
Laughter could be heard as the couple made their way to the heaven they were to meet above... 


	3. beauty queen

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the plot and the poem.  
  
A/N: I'll be posting a new chapter every day or every other day. However, I just realized how absolutely horrid this fic is. I am officially the worst writer I've ever had the inconvenience of reading. But thanks for sticking around. I really appreciate it. Drop me a note? Flames are welcome.  
  
----------------------------- About four months later: (present): March 15 -----------------------------------  
  
Even as her sky flashed with its metallic black rays of reason and regret, he refused to look up and pay her face any attention at all until he felt the sharpened, hoary blade against his temple. And finally-  
  
"Bring that here, Granger."  
  
Hermione looked up slowly and found herself staring at Professor Severus Snape. He was sitting at his desk at the front of the Potions classroom.  
  
"Pardon?" she asked.  
  
"Bring what you were writing up here," Snape replied greasily.  
  
Hermione walked up to his desk, parchment in hand, with all eyes on her. She could feel Ron's eyes being especially carving. They were practically boring themselves into the back of her neck. Snape snatched the paper from Hermione and monotonously read it out loud to the class.  
  
"Ooo, that's dark," Seamus Finnigan said as Lavender gasped. Whispers quickly erupted and Harry leaned over and said something to Ron.  
  
Hermione's cheeks burned and Snape said, "It sounds dreadfully tedious and strange. Ever thing about taking Journalism, Granger?"  
  
Laughter filled the room. Even Ron was laughing, in a fake manner, just for show. But laughing, nonetheless.  
  
"A weeks detention, Granger," Snape sneered as he lit the parchment on fire with his wand, "Go sit down."  
  
---------------------- Later that night ----------------------  
  
Hermione was working on a Transfiguration essay on her bed. She was also listening to Parvarti and Lavender talk about the last guys they had fucked. Hermione thought she heard something outside her dormitory, but before she had the chance to react, Ron had barged through the door. Parvarti and Lavender screamed and Ron looked furious. He was at Hermione's bedside in two strides, and he grabbed her hair very roughly.  
  
"Ron, what are you-"Lavender started to ask.  
  
"I have to talk to Hermione for a second," he replied as he dragged her off the bed and forced her out the door. As Ron shoved Hermione out of the room, she tripped, causing Ron to let go of her hair and get hit in the arm with the door.  
  
"I'm sorry," Hermione said quickly as she stumbled, "are you okay?"  
  
In one fluid motion, Ron gripped Hermione by the neck and smashed her fragile body up against the castle wall. Her feel were off the ground and she quickly realized that she couldn't breathe.  
  
"Listen to me, Hermione," he commanded quietly, not loosening his grip. The helpless girl in front of him tried her best to nod and Ron said, "You can't write anything, anymore. You are to show me everything you pen and it has to be for school. Understand?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione whispered, hastily losing consciousness. Ron let her drop to the ground, but not before he hit her. Hermione crumpled to the stone floor, as she tasted blood. Her head spun and she blacked out.  
  
A/N: Sorry it's so short. I'll post another chapter tomorrow.


	4. la luna è l'amico migliore della ragazza...

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the plot and the poem. And Bastian, I suppose. Although no one can really "own" the moon...  
  
A/N: I am so so so sorry that I didn't post yesterday. I went to a blink182/No Doubt/Living End/Negative Return concert in Chicago on Sunday night and I had to work the next day. Since I only got about 20 minutes of sleep that night I slept all day Monday after work. I am so sorry. I wrote this chapter today and am posting it now. I love you guys for reviewing and sticking around. You're so amazing. No, really. Thank you so much. I nearly died when I saw I had all those reviews. It means so much. I'll try my hardest not to let you down anymore. Puts on deep, serious voice I shall write to the death. But here's the fourth chapter and it's after Hermione's blackout and in the present. The chapter title means, "the moon is the lonely girl's best friend" in Italian. I hope you enjoy this one and I really give you guys credit for staying around. It's truly not worth your time.  
  
Reign In Blood: la luna è l'amico migliore della ragazza solitaria  
  
--------------- March 16 ---------------  
  
As though douse darkest secrets taunting all but this silent voice of mine........this silent voice of.......mine.......  
  
Hermione jolted up and instantaneously wished she hadn't. She moaned loudly as her entire body pounded with pain, her head in particular. She held her head and slowly regained her steady breathing again. Her face felt sticky and she grazed one finger along her lips.  
  
Dry blood.  
  
She felt matted clumps along her hairline and under her eyes as well. 'Hell,' Hermione thought, 'I must look hideous...'  
  
Hermione looked around. There was blood everywhere. But she knew she was in the corridor outside her dormitory. 'At least I'm not completely disoriented,' she thought to herself.  
  
Hermione tilted her head upward and spotted the moon outside a window with no pane. The breeze that it was letting through was pleasant. Cool bursts of air played across her face and around her neck.  
  
Hermione got up, feeling rather content, and quickly calculated the moon's position in the sky. 'It was probably around one in the morning,' she thought dimly, 'that's odd...'  
  
Almost in an instant, Hermione realized why she had been lying on a hard, stone floor for five hours. She was almost certainly unconscious and that's why her head hurt and that's why there was blood everywhere because she had been beaten...by...Ron...and...  
  
Hermione nearly passed out as she became quite aware of her physical pain again. She gazed behind her and down another side corridor.  
  
Nothing.  
  
For a second, she didn't know what to do. Almost subconsciously, she decided to open the door to her dormitory and slip herself inside. She crawled into bed, quietly, as not to disturb her roommates.  
  
'They're probably not even here,' Hermione thought begrudgingly, 'and even if they were, they shouldn't care if I'm loud. They're always thunderously annoying when I'm trying to sleep..."  
  
Hermione didn't bother to shut the curtains around her bed. She could see the window and she was grateful (for the millionth time) that her bed was closest to it.  
  
She peered out, watching her best friend. He was full tonight, beautiful and white. Hermione had decided long ago that he would be named Bastian. It sounded like a small, youthful boy's name and youth made Hermione think of hope.  
  
Bastian was about six or seven years old. He constantly reminded Hermione that being simplistic was the ideal lifestyle. He was also a very good listener. He never spoke back. Just listened. He was almost always there to hear Hermione's problems. Except when he wanted to be alone. Then, Bastian would send for the clouds to cover him up so he wouldn't have to listen to anyone.  
  
Even the moon gets depressed once and a while.  
  
"He won't let me write anymore, Bastian," Hermione whispered, "I don't know what to do..."  
  
Bastian mirrored his silhouette upon her gold and dusty red-colored bedspread. He just winked and listened, but never spoke back.  
  
And during times like these, Hermione wished she were up there with him, so they could listen together. Alone. Either that, or, she hoped that one day he would come down to Earth. Or anyone for that matter...  
  
Hermione hoped that someone, someday, would have the heart to ask her how she was. A glance would be nice, a wave and a smile even better.  
  
And a simple "Hello"?  
  
'Don't push it,' the voice in Hermione's head said sternly, 'You're not that important.'  
  
A/N: Mmm. For some reason, I like that ending. I'll be posting soon, hopefully. Keep in touch! Thanks loads and loads to: Asia Cwiakala: I know what you mean. Ron is one of my favorites too. I like him as the cuddly guy that he seems, but you can't say you haven't seen his flaming temper right below the surface. I just kind of went off on that. Thanks for liking it :) HarryPotterRpFreak: Thanks :). Ron is really an odd ball in this fic. Hermione just takes all of it. She's always seemed really vulnerable to me. sgtpepper: Thanks so much. And good job in mentioning Potter. He's coming in to play very soon. jameslvr: Sorry I didn't update yesterday and thanks for reading. RandomHpCrazedFreak: Thanks a million. It's nice to know that someone noticed :) Wind-demoness: Thanks for the compliment but they can't suck that much. Heh. quidditchcutie07: Yeah Ron/Hermione in an abusive relationship is weird and that's why I wrote it. You don't see too many out there. As for Draco and Ginny in an abusive relationship, I've always thought that Draco is a complete sweetheart. I can imagine Ron losing his temper with a girl more than I can imagine Draco... Thanks for reviewing! Lotr3-Hp3: laughs Thanks a bunch. I love dark stories too. It's always been one of my fetishes. magicrules: Thanks! Hope you keep reading. You guys are my idols. No. I'm serious. I love hearing from you and flames are still welcome. 


	5. When The Curious Girl Realizes She Is Un...

Disclaimer: I own shit except for the plot.  
  
A/N: Thanks for sticking around. Here's the fifth chapter. Drop me a memo if you have a few extra seconds. Flames are welcome. Thanks to jameslvr and Wind-demoness for reviewing again and to all my current readers. You guys are great. And, yes, jameslvr. Bastian is the moon.  
  
Reign In Blood: When The Curious Girl Realizes She Is Under Glass  
  
--------------------  
Still March 16  
--------------------  
  
The massive, flaming ball of gas that they called the sun was already fairly high on the horizon and all the students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were awake.  
  
All but one.  
  
Hermione Granger rolled over in her unbelievably warm and comforting bedspread. Suddenly, though (and for no apparent reason), the young girl awoke abruptly and sat up. Her head pounded.  
  
Hermione winced at the pain that she had almost become accustomed to, but she calmly glanced at the wizard clock beside her bed.  
  
'I'm late for breakfast,' she thought in an offhand-ish manner. Hermione then contemplated what to do next. She couldn't go down to breakfast, definitely not. Ron would think she was roaming the castle, and he wouldn't be happy. Although, she couldn't just stay in bed because she would probably be late for her first class, which was Transfiguration.  
  
Hermione slowly got out of bed, not knowing what excuse she would give Ron as to why she wasn't at breakfast. Hermione tried desperately to think of a reason as she stumbled into her uniform.  
  
She couldn't do it.  
  
Her mind was on overdrive and she couldn't even think straight. The bell rang and Hermione grabbed her book and ran out to the common room. The bushy haired Gryfinndor could only think one thing as she was exiting the portrait:  
  
He's going to kill me.  
  
Before Hermione knew it, she was freaking out. Her heart was up a million, she couldn't breathe right, and her palms were terribly clammy. Hermione's eyesight and hearing started failing as she dashed around a corner.  
  
"I'm going to be late for class and he's going to kill me," Hermione almost pleaded.  
  
"Who's going to kill you?" a voice said from somewhere behind her, "Hermione? Wait!"  
  
Before Hermione could run any faster, an arm was on her shoulder. She instantly stopped as she obeyed her reflexes. She wasn't paying attention to the voice itself, but if it was Ron...she would have done the right thing by stopping and not running away.  
  
But it wasn't Ron. Hermione's senses returned as she calmly looked up at a tall man with messy jet-black hair and glasses. A thin lightning bolt shaped scar jagged itself across his forehead and his expression was one of pure worry.  
  
It was Harry Potter.  
  
"Harry," Hermione breathed.  
  
"Are you okay, Hermione? Why were you running?" he asked as he gave her a look once over.  
  
"I didn't – I didn't want to be late for class," the small girl replied hurriedly, "I was in the – the kitchen, though, talking – to Dobby."  
  
"Were you?" a deep voice said from behind. It was Ron and he sounded livid, but only a furious that Hermione could detect.  
  
"Hey mate," Harry said to Ron, "I think we're going to have a Quidditch practice tonight. I want to go over some new strategies." The trio started walking again. They were nearing the Transfiguration classroom.  
  
"That's fine," Ron said smoothly, "I'll tell Ginny."  
  
"Thanks," Harry said while stifling a yawn.  
  
"Why were you talking to Dobby?" Ron asked Hermione. Hermione mentally swore. She had thought that Harry's change of the subject was for the better, but Ron was very good at not forgetting things that he could use against people. His favorite person to use things against seemed to be Hermione.  
  
"He asked me to come down," she replied quietly.  
  
"Why?" Ron asked sternly.  
  
Harry looked from Ron to Hermione with his eyebrows raised.  
  
"Ron, I'm not supposed to tell," Hermione responded. She had tried to sound firm but she failed miserably and her voice had shaken.  
  
"Well, why not?" Ron came off as impatient. Hermione thought he looked murderous.  
  
"She doesn't have to tell us, Ron," Harry said simply as the three Gryfinndors entered the Transfiguration classroom. They sat down and Hermione realized that she felt oddly suffocated.  
  
"I'll tell, but you can't say a word to Dobby," Hermione said delicately. She couldn't keep anything from Ron for more than a few seconds. Her mental state would go down the drain and Hermione would start to shake all over.  
  
Harry nodded and Ron said, "All right."  
  
"He wanted to know what you two wanted for Christmas this year," she lied in one breath.  
  
Ron scowled, but Harry said, "What did you tell him?"  
  
"I said socks."  
  
The bell rang and Professor McGonagall told the class to take out their essays. The trio did so. "That's bull shit, Hermione. It's March. Christmas isn't till December," Ron whispered in a sharp voice. Hermione noticed that he tried to sound quizzical. She almost believed it and she was positive that Harry did. Ron was definitely a very good actor.  
  
Without missing a beat, Hermione replied, "Remember the load of socks Dobby made Harry a few years ago? There were over 100 pairs. It took him nearly half the year."  
  
"How do you know that?" Ron asked as Harry listened.  
  
"Kindly stop disturbing my class, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, looking at Ron over her spectacles. She looked exhausted. Hermione grasped the idea that Ron's change of attitude and behavior hadn't only affected her. However, Ron didn't even look at Professor McGonagall. She then proceeded to turn her back to the class. The teacher started bewitching the board to write notes and began talking about Advance Animagus spells.  
  
"Well?" Ron asked, clearly losing patience.  
  
"I was in the kitchen with the house elves constantly," Hermione murmured.  
  
"Why were you?" Ron inquired.  
  
"Remember S.P.E.W.?" Hermione asked.  
  
Harry snorted and pitifully covered it up with a cough. Professor McGonagall shot a glance in their direction. Ron looked completely caught off guard and he didn't say another word to Hermione for the rest of the class period.  
  
Hermione smiled inwardly (which was not something she did often), glad that Ron had bought the story. Also, she was incredibly relieved.  
  
Hermione would get one less beating. She could live in a fair and fake peace for another (guaranteed) sixty minutes. 


	6. False Advertising

Disclaimer: I own zilch except for the plot. The poem at the beginning is Led Zeppelin's, who is god.  
  
A/N: Here's the sixth chapter. It's much lighter. Tell me how I'm doing? As usual, flames are welcome. Thanks many freight trains and lipstick tubes for reading. I really appreciate it. Much appreciation to Shadow Psi, ProfTrelawny15, Wind-demoness, jameslvr, and sgtpepper for reviewing!!  
  
Reign In Blood: False Advertising  
  
------------------------------------------  
That weekend (in mid-March)  
------------------------------------------  
  
--There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold And she's buying a stairway to heaven And when she gets there she knows if the stores are closed With a word she can get what she came for  
  
There's a sign on the wall but she wants to be sure Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings In a tree by the book there's a songbird who sings sometimes All our thoughts are misgiven  
  
There's a feeling I get when I look to the west And my spirit is crying for leaving In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees And the voices of those who stand looking  
  
And it's whispered that soon if we all call the tune Then the piper will lead us to reason And a new day will dawn for those who stand long And the forests will echo with laughter  
  
And it makes me wonder  
  
If there's a bustle in your hedgerow Don't be alarmed now It's just a spring clean for the May-Queen Yes there are two paths you can go by But in the long run there's still time to change the road you're on  
  
Your head is humming and it won't go In case you don't know, the piper's calling you to join him Dear lady can you hear the wind below And did you know your stairway lies on the whispering wind?  
  
And as we wind down the road (our shadow taller than our soul) There walks a lady we all know Who shines white light and wants to show how everything still turns to gold And if you listen very hard the tune will come to you at last When all are one and one is all to be a rock and not to roll...--

The sky was one of those odd shades of rich blue that one doesn't see very often. The clouds had apparently gone on vacation, but the humidity made its presence felt. The wind whispered, slowly, its long lost words that no one ever seemed to hear. The sun blazed its immortality for everyone to see, whether they wanted to see it or not. Bastian was hidden, waiting for his time to shine and the stars were concealed as well. The day was truly young and beautiful.  
  
Truly young and beautiful. Kind of like a certain adolescent...  
  
Hermione brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. The sun's rays made her the few freckles on the bridge of her nose stand out and her eyes sparkled in the light. Her hair looked good: thick and slightly wind-blown.  
  
The girl looked lost and alone. Yet, she obviously accepted her inner seclusion and seemed exceptionally content. She was nestled on the castle steps, reading a book. Her back was against the stone stairs, however she felt extremely warm and comfortable.  
  
It was the weekend and she was dressed in some comfortable jeans and one of her boyfriend's sweatshirts. It was red, like his hair. She liked to wear his clothing. It smelled like him and she loved when his aura surrounded him. His scent reminded her of how it used to be...of how he used to be...  
  
"Hello beautiful," someone said from above where Hermione was sitting. It was Ron. She could tell. She looked up and saw her two best friends exiting the castle. They were both dressed in casual clothes and Harry was smiling at her. She smiled back.  
  
Hermione noticed something odd, though, as Ron walked over to her and knelt down. He smiled that funny little smile that she loved. It crinkled the skin around his eyes and showed his left dimple. Ron took his finger and put it gently on Hermione's neck as he leaned down to kiss her.  
  
The kiss was soft and tender. His lips were extremely soft and balmy. He pulled away slightly as Hermione looked into his deep aqua-colored eyes. She instantly felt herself falling in love all over again. She couldn't help it; he was like before...  
  
Ron smiled again as he swept away a piece of Hermione's hair. "Harry and I are going for a walk. Do you want to go?" he asked kindly.  
  
Hermione shifted her weight. He probably wanted her to go. But she had planned to just do something that would make her happy. She loved the boys to death, but listening to them talk about Quidditch for three hours? She'd rather pass.  
  
"Ron, is it...alright if I just stick around here? I've been wanting to finish this book and – "Hermione showed him the cover. It was an old complex "Ancient Runes" hardback book.  
  
Hermione was instantly overcome by a foreboding sense of nervousness. What would Ron do? She turned him down...  
  
To her immense surprise, Ron just smirked. "It's alright, baby. Maybe we can do something later though?"  
  
Hermione was shocked. "Yes," she said, "Yes. Yes, of course. Sure."  
  
Ron got up and said to Harry, "Let's go Harry. The goddess is too good for us."  
  
Hermione laughed and said, "Ron!"  
  
Ron chuckled and replied, "I'm just kidding Hermione." Harry smirked at the couple.  
  
"You two are perfect for each other," Harry said as he rolled his eyes, "Have fun reading, Hermione. As the two males made their way down the school's front steps; Hermione smiled to herself.  
  
"I love you Ron," Hermione called to her boyfriend's retreating back. Ron's pace didn't falter.  
  
"I love you too Hermione," Ron replied. He glanced over his shoulder at her. Ron was still smiling. Harry then slapped his best friend's back and Ron shot Harry a pleasant look in return.  
  
Hermione sighed happily. Maybe things were different now...maybe Ron was trying to change. Maybe he was making an effort to become who he used to be...for Hermione.  
  
He did care for her a lot, more than the two of them could imagine. Or at least that's what Hermione told herself. Instead of seeing Ron's feelings, Hermione often more than not could feel them. She could tell when he was angry, depressed, or happy when others couldn't.  
  
The first time they made love, Ron cried. When Hermione was asking him what was wrong he replied, "I just love you so much, Hermione. You're my everything."  
  
Whenever Ron would hit Hermione or verbally abuse her, Hermione would constantly repeat those words over and over again inside her head.  
  
"I just love you so much, Hermione. You're my everything." 


	7. Peaches and Cream

Disclaimer: I own the plot.  
  
A/N: Wow. I haven't updated in a long time. I'm apologizing and I will tell you why. On last Friday, I hadn't slept in three days so I slept through until Sunday. Then I had to work nonstop until Wednesday. I finally got something written but couldn't get to a computer until today. Again, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry that this chap sucks, but thanks much for reading. You guys are the best.  
  
That night Bastian was in waxing and almost full. This was good news for Hermione because he illuminated the (normally) dark corridors rather efficiently. She pulled her robe closer to her body as she turned the corner. Hermione then found herself right outside Ron's dormitory, which was her destination. She looked around her to make sure no one was coming, and she quietly entered the room.  
  
Once inside, Hermione looked around. The boys' room was how she had always remembered it: messy.  
  
Hermione grimaced as she stepped over books, ripped parchment, spare quills, and candy wrappers galore. After passing Neville's, Dean's, and Seamus' beds, Hermione reached Ron's. She glanced to her left at Harry's bed, which was empty (covers askew).  
  
'Probably with Ginny', Hermione thought simply as she climbed on Ron's bed from the bottom. Hermione could hear him snoring softly and he looked extremely peaceful. The moon was shining through the window and onto Ron's four-poster bed, making Ron very easy to see.  
  
His red hair was ruffled and his hands looked so gentle, just resting on his bare stomach.  
  
That's when Hermione realized that Ron was wearing nothing more than a pair of boxers. Inhaling, she shifted her position and crept up the mattress. Ron's bed springs squeaked, and Dean (two beds over) rolled over with a grunt onto his side.  
  
With that, Hermione froze in a catlike posture and Ron's sea green eyes fluttered open. To her immense relief, Hermione saw him smile.  
  
"Hermione, what...are...you..."  
  
His voice trailed off as his eyes wandered. Hermione was on all fours and her robe had come apart at the center. It was just covering her arms and shoulders.  
  
But her front was exposed, and Hermione Granger was wearing a tantalizing black set of a bra and panties.  
  
Ron swallowed, "Hermione-"  
  
Hermione smirked and crawled seductively closer to him, swinging one leg over his torso. Before Ron could even think, Hermione was straddling him and had him pinned completely to his bed.  
  
"You're not going anywhere, Ron," she purred in his ear. Ron shuddered beneath her.  
  
While looking into Hermione's eyes, something in Ron clicked. He was up on his forearms and kissing her in no time.  
  
As Ron was trying to hold himself up, Hermione was blindly trying to get her terry cloth robe off. Within minutes, however, that wasn't the only thing that was off. And that goes for both 16-year old Gryfinndors.  
  
Hermione had never kissed Ron harder and more passionate than she did now. She wanted him so bad; it was unbearable.  
  
Ron knew it. He wanted it too. He had missed this...  
  
Because every time it happened, it just got better.  
  
Hermione hastily backed up, giving Ron the needed space to move out from underneath her. Soon, he was on top on her and the two were at it again.  
  
As Ron went inside her, Hermione's hands were flat on his bare and smooth stomach. Ron felt Hermione's entire body become limp for a split second. He moaned as she came back.  
  
Ron loved when she did that, when she did everything. She was so unbelievably vulnerable, yet completely seductive.  
  
But awfully vulnerable, nonetheless. 


	8. The Lethal Recollection

Disclaimer: I own the plot.  
  
A/N: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I've had to work everyday this week, and I've had cross-country practice for multiple hours each day. I took way too much unneeded Aderol, the pill hit me as pure speed, and I didn't sleep for three days straight. I'm writing this at 4:30 AM because the speed won't let me go to sleep. Please accept the shitiness of this chapter. If you have any suggestions for the plot itself, please let me know. I still love you guys for reading, and I wish I could be more productive. Thanks for staying with the story, and props to all my wonderful reviewers. Thanks again.  
  
The sun taunted Ron's eyelids, begging him to wake up. Under the covers, Ron shifted his foot, wishing that he would never have to rise from the comfy, cushiony bed that he was sunken into.  
  
Ron was exhausted. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. He sniffed and felt his foot twitch. Ron reached up to scratch his nose as he felt the warmth of the blazing sun on his cheeks.  
  
The sun always seemed to find Ron. He had never been too fond of the light. It made his freckles stand out and seemed to demand happiness and pastel- colored clothing. The daylight enjoyed seeping through everything, including closed walls and windows, trying to locate him. And it always did. Ron could never hide from the one thing that really reminded him of how he used to be. He hated anything that brought back his memories of being careless and free.  
  
He sighed, realizing that he couldn't go back to sleep. With no trouble, he opened his eyes.  
  
'I guess I'm not that tired,' Ron thought. He exhaled deeply as he sat up. Ron flexed his fingers as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.  
  
A fast and simple image flashed through his mind. The image turned Ron's stomach, and it instantly made him furious.  
  
The image was that of his father.  
  
Ron would think of his father regularly. He hated doing it, but it was inevitable. It was impossible to erase his father's still lingering memory. Ron's stomach switched into a clenching mode, like it usually did, and he had a sudden urge to find Draco Malfoy.  
  
And kill him.  
  
Killing Draco Malfoy was the closest thing Ron could get to revenge. Draco had Lucius Malfoy's blood, and although Lucius was long dead, he had still killed Arthur Weasley.  
  
It was one of those long, lost, terrible nights. The hours of darkness were dark, stormy, and full of deathly hate. There had been a battle. The Dark Lord was on a rampage of murder, and his Death Eaters were everywhere.  
  
Ron hadn't seen the slaughter. He had just seen the blood and the body.  
  
Ron saw Lucius Malfoy hovering above the corpse with a nine-inch blade in his right hand. The blade was rusted and entirely covered in more blood. Lucius' hands were soaked in it as well. He looked lethal and utterly insane. Lucius' eyes were a piercing blue color. He had made eye contact with Ron straight on. How dare he: stare down Ronald Weasley after butchering his father.  
  
Ron saw his father on the ground, slumped lifelessly, soaking in his own blood. The color of the blood was vivid in Ron's memory. It was scarlet- colored, dark enough to almost seem black. It had made Ron vomit when he saw the scene. It still made him vomit when he remembered it...  
  
After the situation had fully registered in his mind, Ron had become conscious of the fact that he had to kill Lucius. Quickly and painfully.  
  
Ron had stepped a foot closer when Lucius fled. Ron began chasing after the murderous man, and he nearly caught him. Lucius' black cloak was floating in Ron's fingertips. He was so close.  
  
Instantly, a cloaked figure approached from somewhere to the left of Ron. Ron somehow knew what was going to happen.  
  
It all happened very fast. Ron just heard a mumbled curse, saw the staff of a brown-colored wand, and noticed a bright, green light.  
  
Lucius Malfoy was on the ground, dead, in less than a second.  
  
Ron had nearly tripped over the carcass. He looked around quickly. The masked shape had escaped. Ron also noticed that the thing had taken the sword that Lucius had been carrying.  
  
Ron stood there, amidst smells of blood and abhorrence. Smoke encircled him, and he felt his eyes tear. Other than that, he was pulsing with a calm anger that he couldn't control.  
  
Ron was left with nothing more than Lucius' unmoving body and a prolonged, vanished reminiscence of a man named Mr. Weasley. 


	9. The Crumpled Vixen

Disclaimer: I own the plot.  
  
A/N: Here it is. Chapter number nine. I'm on a roll. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Comments, flames, and suggestions are all welcomed and appreciated. Oh, and thanks for being patient :).  
  
Ron stood and made his way out of the dormitory that he shared with four other 16-year old Gryfinndors. Ron felt very mellow.  
  
However, as he was making his way closer to the door, Ron stumbled over a broken inkbottle. In reaction, he moved away from it. Ron felt the back of his heal smash into the point of a quill. He could feel a piece of broken glass in his other foot.  
  
Ron groaned angrily as he sat down on the end of Dean's bed. He attempted to slowly ease the glass section out of his big toe.  
  
'Well, my day is ruined,' he thought, exasperated, 'Damn glass.'  
  
After achieving taking the glass out of his skin, Ron walked out of the room and towards the Great Hall.  
  
But this time, he looked where he was stepping.  
  
Ron entered the Great Hall and recognized that breakfast was almost over. He quickly scanned the tabled, spotted Hermione, and instantly became overcome with pure jealousy.  
  
He began walking towards them. The beautiful vixen herself was sitting next to the infamous Harry Potter. They were both laughing. Not just laughing.  
  
Laughing  
  
Ron could see their expressions from where he was and getting closer. Hermione had that little smile that she put on when she was flirting. Ron loved that smile. Her nose crinkled, and her freckles stood out more than ever. Hermione's eyes looked so bright. It was his smile.  
  
Hermione was touching Harry's forearm in an affectionate kind of way.  
  
Harry was responding with a funny grin. Harry's head was terribly close to Hermione's. Ron was about ten feet away from the duo.  
  
Harry tilted his head slightly. He looked like he wanted to kiss Hermione.  
  
Not bothering to realize that he was doing, Ron approached his best friend. He hastily shoved Hermione's hand away from Harry and roughly tossed Harry's chair away. Harry's chair promptly toppled sideways and hit the ground. Harry went with it.  
  
Heads turned and Ron could feel McGonagall's presence coming closer. He hurriedly grabbed Hermione's hand and looked down at Harry.  
  
Harry looked shocked, nervous, and bemused all at the same time. His eyes were dark, yet curious.  
  
"Stay away from my girl, mate," Ron said just above his breath.  
  
Harry heard though and Ron knew it. A look had come over Harry that Ron had never seen before: a true, betrayed stare, straight from the heart.  
  
Harry looked (and felt) perfectly and absolutely deceived. Harry Potter: betrayed by his best friend. And in front of the entire school, nonetheless.  
  
Ron quickly walked away with Hermione, despite her objections. Ron just tuned her voice out as 1,000 pairs of eyes watched them leave. McGonagall was probably yelling for him to stop.  
  
As soon as the couple exited the heavy wooden doors, Ron's ears seemed to have turned up the volume. He caught the last important bit of Hermione's rant.  
  
"-think you're doing? You disgust me, Ron!"  
  
He rounded on her instantly, hearing (rather than feeling) the sickening thud of flesh and bone hitting flesh and bone.  
  
"Never," he breathed.  
  
Hermione was on the brink of tears. Ron could feel her shaking. He knew she thought he was changed. But he wasn't. His open, gaping wounds would never heal.  
  
"Never talk to me like that again."  
  
Hermione looked like a small child, cowering before her master.  
  
Ron let go of her hand and wordlessly walked in the opposite direction.  
  
Hermione crumpled to the ground as she watched his retreating back. "Ron..." she whispered.  
  
"Ron, I'm sorry," Hermione yelled.  
  
The only answer she got in return was her own echo. The corridor suddenly felt cold and uninviting. Hermione tightly held her hair in her hands as she sobbed. She felt so utterly lost without her other half.  
  
Hermione then gently whispered, "I wish I could gather all my tears so I could fucking drown you in them, Ronald Weasley."  
  
The silence pressed down on and around her. She was so alone. Yet, Hermione felt a shadow over her. She sent out her senses and immediately picked up danger.  
  
'Is it real?' she contemplated exhaustingly, 'Or is it all in my mind?' 


	10. The Need For Salvation

Disclaimer: I own the plot.  
  
A/N: Chapter ten...I believe. Hope you enjoy it. I can't tell you guys how appreciative I am of you. I just wanted to tell "The-Anonymouso.O" that...erm...I'm sorry? What do you want me to do? I can't help it if you don't think your "Ronnykinns" is capable of acting the way he is. Oi vei. Why are you even telling me this? It's my story and my plot, not yours. So, please, don't yell at me. Just write your own story and make Ron play Santa Claus if you want. Santa Claus is nice, right? cough cough Oh, and about the "Peaches and Cream" thing, redtears85 took the words right out of my mouth. Thanks for saying it so my lazy ass wouldn't have to. Much love. Obviously Tonkseh doesn't know her stuff... laughs evilly Boy do I feel sinister...  
  
"You know, Granger, you can't keep living like this," a voice whispered from somewhere behind the sobbing girl.  
  
Hermione hiccupped and quickly turned her head in surprise. Standing above her, towering over her was the one and only: Draco Malfoy. His platinum blonde hair was lighter than ever, and his silver-blue eyes were icy.  
  
In any other situation, Hermione would have ran away right then. But this time was different. There was something different about Malfoy. There was a funny look in his freezing eyes. The look was very serious yet   
  
"What – what do you want, Malfoy?" She sounded helpless and completely unthreatening. Hermione thought he would smirk and make a snide comment. But he didn't. He just held his ground.  
  
"Something has to be wrong with you Granger. The whole damn school knows how Weasley treats you," Malfoy said in an uncharacteristically soft voice. He sounded slightly angry, but the boy was very composed.  
  
"Ron treats me fine," Hermione said rather quickly. She felt the heat rising in her cheeks. Could he tell she was lying? She was a very good liar.  
  
Malfoy narrowed his eyes. Hermione could tell that he was searching her face. His forehead relaxed. He had believed her.  
  
"Then why are you crying?" he asked, searching for information.  
  
"I fell," she said simply.  
  
"Well, where's the knight in shining armor? Shouldn't he be here to whisk you away on his noble steed? Or at least help you up?" Malfoy asked Hermione. Hermione noticed that his eyes and voice were back to normal: as cold as ever. He looked extremely distant.  
  
"Ron was with me," Hermione countered angrily. She was trying to give Malfoy the shortest answers possible. She wanted him to leave.  
  
In the back of her mind, a small voice said, 'What if Ron comes back? He wouldn't be too happy to see you with Draco Malfoy...'  
  
But Hermione told herself that Ron wouldn't come back. He never did. Ron would just make Hermione collapse from the immense weight of the emotional, mental, and physical abuse that he was feeding her. Then he would split, as swiftly as possible, leaving Hermione to cry until all her tears were gone.  
  
The bell rang and Hermione promptly rose to her feet. Without a backward glance, she stumbled forward. She could hear a thousand or so students pouring through the Great Hall doors, but she was already dashing around the corner.  
  
Once she was far enough away from her classmates, her body instantly felt weak. She could barely breathe. Hermione immediately thought of the short conversation that she had just had with Malfoy. It was the closest thing she had ever had to a normal conversation with the Slytherin.  
  
The funny thing was, Hermione wished she could see him again to tell him that she was battered. She could just yell it at him, scream out all the pain she had been through. He would understand, and he would get her help. Hermione would never have to deal with it again.  
  
But Hermione knew how dangerous it was talking to Malfoy. He was Ron's enemy, and they hated each other with a burning passion that Hermione didn't even know was possible. Ron would kill her if he found out that she was associating herself with Draco Malfoy. He would kill her.  
  
Hermione looked behind her at the empty corridor. She could hear students bustling about somewhere close by. She wished Malfoy would have followed her and demanded an explanation. She wished that he would force her to tell. She needed to tell him... She needed to tell someone... He would have been the perfect one...  
  
In that second moment of running, Malfoy's presence teased her with its closeness. It danced and sparkled on a wavelet at her moving feet. But then, as she ran faster and into the darkness, the vast ocean pulled back the tide into its dark, infinite belly, and now Hermione was faced with the terror of never finding it again. If she could only find it, she felt sure it would give her strength and maybe even hope.  
  
But she was left with nothing more than the taste of feeling free and an urgent, painful longing in her heart. 


	11. Only They Live On

Disclaimer: I own the plot.  
  
A/N: I wrote this, but I got the extremely basic idea of the chapter from TribalKitty. The idea being of a girl running through a castle, thinking that she is going to be killed.   
  
To bestytheripper, I'm so sorry I didn't answer your questions. I just thought that you would find out as the story went along...I guess I'm just lazy. McGonagall is going to talk to Ron, hopefully. I just haven't written it yet... Yes, someone did find Hermione on the floor: the great and almighty Draco Malfoy. swoons I love Draco. He and his large hands are god. Muah.   
  
No, RootbeerFloat (Amy), Harry wouldn't understand. For some odd reason, I've never been too fond of the chap. I think he's too egotistical...   
  
To ajzcourage: what if Ron "accidentally kills Hermione? smirks faintly  
  
To dracoslovemistress: Yeah, I don't know if Hermione is insane. If I were in her exact situation, I know I would definitely have a lack of sanity...Ron is a tough guy to understand, especially in this story. I've always thought he was an extremely deep guy. Harry. Well, well. Harry is a dope. hangs head I'm sorry to all Harry lovers. I just don't...really like him. I don't know. He's okay, I guess.   
  
Okay...I think that was all the questions. If I missed some, just yell at me or something. Future comments, suggestions, flames, etc, etc. Feel free to tell me. Thanks for reading you wonderful, fantastic readers. HA! I said fantastic. Wahoo. Go me. Oh, and you might find this chapter rather alarming...hope you're not disappointed or angry. Let me just say. The story's not over yet.

Running... ...again... ...why...?  
  
Through the halls, up a side, stone stairway, left, right, left again, through a carpet door, then turn around, a dead end, dead end, halted...  
  
Hermione slammed into the stone brick wall, unwillingly coming to a painful halt. Her high-pitched scream reverberated through the halls of the castle. She fell to the ground, holding her bleeding nose and trying not to think of what senses her uncontrolled scream might have awoken.  
  
Hermione hoped with all her might that her teachers wouldn't notice that she was gone. Maybe they just thought she was sick. She didn't want to go to class. She probably would never go again.  
  
Hermione knew she would be killed. Ron would find out that she had talked to Malfoy: had a civilized conversation with him. He would find out, and he would kill her.  
  
--for there are monsters here, immature child, beasts and demons and dragons that can hear you beg and scream, little girl--  
  
Hermione moaned, panicked, fell to the ground. She felt blood. She saw blood. That wall was too hard for her delicate skin to take.  
  
She was scared, terrified. Hermione threw up on the stone next to her. She moaned and doubled over in pain: both physically and mentally. Ron was looking for her. He knew. He was coming to find her. He was coming now. Her time was limited.  
  
Her face hurt, her heart hurt. Lying on the ground in a heap and more of her black bile and blood than she ever could bear to see, she realized that her whole body was one, beastly mass of pain.  
  
She used all her energy to try and get up, but she instantly fell back. Hermione felt like she had been running forever. The dark hallways all looked the same, and unchanged thoughts blasted through her head.  
  
He's going to kill me.  
  
Hermione reluctantly realized that she couldn't move herself foreword. It would all stop here. Her physical strength had finally reached its limit.  
  
Her left arm didn't move when she tried to lift it. Her hand and her fingers seemed as heavy as led.  
  
Her right arm was trapped underneath her throbbing body, and it didn't hurt as much. She couldn't lift it, but she knew that it was covered in blood. She didn't quite know why. The collision with the wall couldn't have been that it?  
  
She silently glanced at all the blood around her. There was definitely a lot of it. Where had it all come from? Was it all hers?  
  
Hermione felt a drop of it sliding down her nose. She noiselessly watched it fall off the end of her nose and hit the floor. For some odd reason, the castle was rather dark, even though it was daylight. Dark shadows danced across the blank walls. Hermione could make out the new color that her blood made on the stones. It was a scarlet hue, and made Hermione vomit again.  
  
She gagged, expecting the result of the nauseating sight to manifest itself, but then she realized that she didn't have anything else left in her stomach. She had only eaten a small breakfast, and she couldn't remember if she had had dinner the night before.  
  
'This is it,' she thought, 'Please die, here, now, in this madhouse of nightmares that I call my mind.'  
  
--we all die young. some of us die slowly. some of us die quickly. but we all die young, little one--  
  
The bleeding slowly stopped, and even after Hermione screamed, cried, begged, and fell asleep from exhaustion, she was still alive. Tears welled up in her deep, brown eyes. She felt finished. Hermione knew she had to stand, sometime or another, or she would be found.  
  
She forced her legs to move underneath her body, and with the greatest effort that Hermione could muster, she stood up. Hard, dry bangs of frizzy, brown hair fell across her face and into her eyes as she stood. As she lifted her trembling hand to push them aside, she sickeningly realized they were covered with dried blood. Hermione could barely even see what color her skin was. Everything was stiff and scarlet-colored. Hermione gagged again.  
  
Hermione couldn't defend herself even if she tried. What would she use? Her blood? That's all she really seemed to have ungodly amounts of.  
  
She had to find out exactly where she was...before she went completely insane. She needed to get away from Ron forever. Hermione couldn't live like this for much longer, and she knew it. She needed a miracle.  
  
--for the castle is vast, beyond your wildest dreams, young one, and guarded, by creatures of darkness, child. creatures that have been created by you. they live on. you do not, little child--  
  
Hermione was standing in a sinister-looking corridor. It was extremely vague and dim, and there were no portraits on the walls, which was odd. Hermione could see that there were two candles at the end of the corridor. They were on either side of a very large wooden door. The door seemed rather far away. Hermione wondered what was behind it. Anything was better than staying here, where hell was practically breathing its condemnations in her ear.  
  
She noticed that many shadows crept across the walls by the door as the small flames moved in the nonexistent wind. The shadows were creating frightening shapes on the walls, in the corners, against the ceiling. It scared Hermione terribly. She wanted out of this blasted castle that caused her so much heartache.  
  
Hermione heard a noise, like a foot fault, on the other side of the door. Reflexively, she took a step backward. Pain shot through her body as her legs threatened to give out again. Hermione heard the footsteps again. They were louder and closer this time. They knew where she was, and they were making no effort to quiet themselves.  
  
'Oh, no,' she thought, the panic rising inside her.  
  
Hermione was horrified, but the footsteps sounded as calm as ever. She knew the person wasn't afraid. She knew Ron wasn't afraid...  
  
Hermione panted, as she stood, frozen in place. The door suddenly burst open, and let out a screech of panic. It was over.  
  
Just as Hermione expected, Ron strode in, eyes like hellfire, claws sharper than those of any monster, any dragon. The aura of purest magick and rage surrounding him was enough to have blinded any mortal, made any human pass out with fear.  
  
Yet Hermione simply stood there. She knew what he was there for, and she was ready. She had never been more petrified in her life. It was all over. Nowhere to run, no more running, not now, not ever...  
  
Ron had a sword with him. Hermione noticed that even in the dark, it glinted with murderous beauty. Ron was positively furious. Hermione had never seen him this mad. He approached her quickly, like he had planned this.  
  
Hermione could feel his sharpened hands grabbing her clothes, his arms of superhuman strength lifting her by her garments, and she unwillingly gasped for air, not even bothering to move.  
  
Tears welled up in her eyes as she was violently pinned against a wall. 'The same wall,' she thought, 'that I had ran into mere hours ago.'  
  
Hermione looked into the flaming hell pits that were the eyes of Ronald Weasley, inches away from her face, and saw them closing...  
  
A hand reached out, and ancient words were whispered. Hermione thought it sounded like a familiar spell. Ron looked deadly, almost as fatal as the hoary sword he held.  
  
The silver sword brought itself to life by mystic force. It turned in the air, once, twice, guided by Ron, finally stopping as he stepped aside. Hermione was still, inescapably pinned against the wall.  
  
As Ron made a final gesture, the sword thrust itself through clothes and flesh and wall, causing Hermione and her body to cry out one last time, before her body finally went limp.  
  
Crimson blood, dripping from the blade, forever stained the once normally colored clothes that marked bravery of unknown kind.  
  
"And now, Hermione Granger...you sleep." said Ron, and calmly left the room.


	12. Love But Her And Love Forever

Disclaimer: I own the plot.  
  
A/N: Here ya go. Sorry it took so long. But I think this is it. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. You are the greatest. Seriously, I can't thank you guys enough. I'll probably start a new fic really soon, once I get some sleep. So if you're interested, just check my profile on once and a while. Tell me if you can think of any good fic ideas, as well. Thanks again, so much, for everything. Much love.  
  
Anyone who was aimlessly walking in a certain corridor in a certain castle on a certain sunny afternoon would nearly get trampled over. Even if they were just minding their own business, going for a stroll. The tempo of the hallway itself was terrifying, negativity swirling everywhere in thick clouds. One could tell that magick had been performed, and that the incantation ended in a bloody and tragic manner.  
  
One just could sense these things.  
  
These imaginary, strolling people would also happen to glance at the platinum blonde ball of light rush past them in the ungodly speed. It looked odd and out of place, but they wouldn't question it.  
  
That was why no one treaded in that certain section of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on that day: the atmosphere was probably too dangerously unstable.  
  
However, that "platinum blonde ball of light" wasn't a ball of light at all. It was a boy, sixteen years of age to be exact, and that boy was in a rush to get somewhere.  
  
That boy had a name, though. His name was a strong one, full of power and supremacy. His name actually meant "dragon", and the name fit the boy well.  
  
His name was Draco.  
  
Now Draco was terrified: more alarmed than he had ever been. He had just recently, within a few seconds before now, witnessed a terrible scene.  
  
Ron Weasley had just passed him as Draco was walking down the main staircase in the school. Ron's brief company wouldn't have bothered Draco if he hadn't said anything...If he hadn't whispered haunting words into his ear.  
  
Those words...Draco promised himself he would remember them forever...Remember her forever.  
  
"She's gone."  
  
At this point, Ron laughed as he leisurely walked down the steps. He seemed disturbingly carefree. The look on his face sent shivers up Draco's spine.  
  
Ron turned a corner, still chuckling to himself. Draco ran.  
  
He had never run faster in his life. Never. He hoped he would never have to run that fast again. Down a corridor, left, right, left again. Up a staircase. Down another gloomy hall. They all looked the same...  
  
Draco cast out his senses, searching for Hermione in the castle. He picked up speed as he sensed her presence somewhere on the floor above him.  
  
But, a bloodcurdling thought raced through his mind.  
  
'Granger's dead.'  
  
He could feel himself reaching close to hyperventilation. He had been running for hours...for days...He was moving too fast; this was abnormal. He never ran. Even Quidditch just involved sitting on a stick. No running was involved. Draco was terribly out of shape.  
  
His calf muscles burned, and his lungs were seizing up. He couldn't breathe. It hurt to exhale. But, Draco kept moving, never faulting his pace.  
  
It was hell. He couldn't inhale anymore. That would just make it ten times harder to breathe out.  
  
Draco flew through a large door, and on the other side, he saw Hermione: drenched in her own blood. Draco nearly recoiled from the simple sight of her. He slowed his pace as he felt his body become silent. He couldn't feel his heart beating anymore. Draco didn't feel the need to breathe right then. His body felt eloquently tranquil.  
  
Just then, it all came flooding back, the reason for his arrival in that certain dreadfully looking corridor in the blasted palace that he called home.  
  
Draco's lungs flooded with air, his head pounded mercilessly, and he almost fainted. Breathing heavily and realizing that the feeling was coming back into his body was a different story. It was like nothing Draco had ever experienced. He felt as if pins and needles were encasing him.  
  
Ignoring the shooting spikes of pain firing through his body, Draco approached her.  
  
Hermione Granger, in a way, contrasted to her surroundings. The girl, herself, looked dreadfully pale. Her eyes were closed. Her lips were pink. Apart from the fact that she was practically swimming in gore, she looked peaceful.  
  
'She shouldn't be here,' Draco thought bitterly. He thought he would start crying. 'She doesn't belong in this scene. Hermione belongs in a dream. This is a nightmare.'  
  
Draco instantly noticed that there was a large, gaping wound in her center, and a blood-spattered dagger was on the stone floor.  
  
Draco swallowed. It was sickening, grotesquely obscene.  
  
"Ron wasn't in his right mind, Hermione. Forgive him," Draco whispered.  
  
The young, 16-year old bookworm of a Gryfinndor looked beautifully...dead. Draco shuddered as he held her corpse. He missed her already. Draco could feel an invisible wound forming in his own chest. He knew it would never heal...his first love...his only love... 'But why Hermione?'  
  
"I'll always love you, my dear," Draco started crying, "I'll never forget you, Hermione." And with that, he bowed his head and closed his eyes.  
  
The notorious and all-powerful Draco Malfoy had been defeated by nothing other than love itself. 


End file.
